


Show Your Real Face To Me

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Inspired by Music, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Secrets, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where he expected the standard hotel-type set-up, Jun discovered that wasn't necessarily what the Face Down Club meant to provide. Instead of a bed he found only a dark hardwood floor. The walls were red and there was only a chair in the center of the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Your Real Face To Me

**Author's Note:**

> An AU based on a world setting/feel inside one of Arashi's PVs. Inspired by [Face Down](http://yarukizero.livejournal.com/113513.html)

His mistake had been telling Nino.

They'd gotten through the doors at The Hydra an hour before closing, already drunk off their asses from the other two clubs they'd been to that night. Of course Jun only realized later that he was the drunker of the two. But amidst the tacky fog machine and throbbing bass, Nino had watched how Jun's eyes moved, who caught his glance on the dance floor.

"So you're gay then," Nino said simply when they emerged from the club at closing time, huddling together in the chilly alley behind The Hydra with their cigarettes and the leftover body heat from close quarters inside.

Jun had sputtered out something lame, a slurred denial that wouldn't have fooled anyone. Especially not a co-worker who'd been trying to set him up on dates for the last year, all to no avail.

Nino had only smiled, dropped his cigarette to mash at it clumsily with his sneaker. "Now I see why you weren't biting." _Now I see why you turned up your nose at all those girls..._

"...I'm just busy," Jun had tried again, but Nino wasn't having it. They worked the same hours, after all.

Nino, in fact, was delighted at the new challenge Jun's sexuality presented. They worked long hours at the restaurant, slaving away in hot kitchens while the head chef soaked up all the praise. It gave the womanizing sous chef great pleasure to goad at his patissier companion, to try and find him someone to occupy his hours away from the oven and the kitchen torch. Nino never got to meddle with the menu so he settled for meddling in personal lives.

"I get to see how the other half lives," Nino mused, already plotting. "Leave it to me, Jun-kun."

\--

Jun had scowled, mostly embarrassed that his secret was out. But over the next few days, he lost himself so thoroughly in perfecting the fall dessert rotation (pumpkin roll cakes, apple cinnamon mousse, sweet potato everything...) that he almost forgot that Nino knew his preference now. 

So when he was cleaning up his station that night and Nino slipped a small card into the jacket pocket of his uniform, he thought nothing of it. Nino used that little trick to sneak Jun phone numbers and email addresses all the time. Natsuki the cabaret girl. Aiko, the single mother who still had a great figure. The women Nino had hand-picked for him with care.

He was in the locker room, changing to head home, when he finally took the card out to toss it in the trash. But it wasn't a slip of notebook paper, a name hastily scribbled on one of the head chef's business cards from the hostess station. This was thick card stock in cherry red, a heavy black font etched in the center. 

**The Face Down Club, Shibuya. Thursday 10:30 AM.**

He turned the card over. Nothing. No Nino commentary. No "I think you'll like her." Not even the actual address of this club. A club he'd never even heard of, which struck him as odd. Before he'd gotten the job at the restaurant and put his harder partying days behind him he'd been inside every Tokyo club. Gay, straight, he'd surely patrolled them all once or twice, never showing his face enough for anyone to place him again and fuck over his career.

He'd never heard of The Face Down Club. Then again, he thought bitterly, imagining Nino's self-satisfied face, he'd never been to any hardcore fetish clubs before. If that was what his co-worker assumed about him...

His angry thoughts were interrupted as Nino approached, snatching the card from his fingertips. "I worked my ass off to get you in. Used every trick in my arsenal, every name in my little black book," Nino said, brown eyes sparkling with triumph. "You better fucking go."

Jun sat down on the changing room bench, lacing up his sneakers. "What kind of club opens at 10:30 in the morning? You're full of shit."

Nino smiled, wiggling the bright red card. "It's your interview. This place is elite. They vet everyone thoroughly, match you up. No playing the floor, hedging your bets and ending up with a bad lay. Hell, it's too bad I play for the other team...it'd save me a lot of time."

Jun flushed, grateful for the emptiness of the changing room. "So it's not even a club, it's a matchmaking service?"

"Specializing in people like you." Jun looked up just in time for Nino to hold up his hand in apology. "People of your persuasion who also like to keep it quiet. I'm not stupid, Jun, I wasn't running around blabbing your name to the first okama I saw."

Jun yanked the card back, shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Why do you care so much about who I date?"

Nino's face finally turned serious. "Because you've got a stick up your ass, and you're scaring the hell out of your crew."

Jun scoffed. "What are you even talking about?"

"When poor Aiba-chan couldn't give you a status update on the pumpkin cupcakes tonight you threw a whisk at his head."

Jun opened his mouth only to close it soon after. Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a micro-manager when it came to the desserts crew, but he was in charge of it after all. Why shouldn't he expect his team to be on the same page as him? 

Before he could explain himself, Nino shook his head. "This is my kitchen, and you're all my responsibility," Nino explained. "No more whisk throwing. Not everyone's as psychotic as you are. We don't even have a Michelin star, so take it down a notch, alright?"

Shame bubbled up in his stomach. Nino rarely played the "boss" card. He was serious. But work was everything to Jun. He'd spent so much time ignoring his own needs, shoving Nino's suggestions away, that he had no personal life to speak of. Nobody to share his thoughts or feelings with. Nobody who understood him. All his energy went into the cake pans, into his piping bag. 

He stared at his boss, his only true friend in the kitchen. "I'll go on your stupid interview, but so help me if this is all a joke..."

Nino's seriousness washed away, replaced with the easygoing smile Jun was used to. Even when barking out orders to the line cooks and getting plates ready for the dining room Nino never lost his cheerful demeanor. "It's not a joke. The person I spoke to said they specialize in, and I quote, 'matching the unmatchable.'"

"Provided I pass the interview?" Jun asked, rolling his eyes.

"Provided you pass the interview," Nino repeated with a wink. "You got through culinary school. This'll be a breeze."

\--

The next morning, Thursday, found Jun navigating the streets west of Shibuya Station. Upon arriving home the previous night, he'd scoured the Internet for the address of the Face Down Club. All he found was a basic website that required him to enter his name and date of birth along with the answer to a security question ("What is your mother's maiden name?"). He didn't want to know how Nino had known the answer, but as soon as Jun entered his info, the website spat back simplistic directions. No pictures of the place, no contact number, no further information.

His appointment was at 10:30 so he found himself wandering behind gaping tourists and hungover salarymen hurrying to the office for a late arrival. The directions carried him through Dogenzaka, the love hotels empty and the lights of other clubs in the neighborhood turned off, their doors shuttered until the promise of night returned. He went off the main drag, and the other pedestrians vanished. He slipped past closed izakayas and came upon a humble-looking dark brick building.

The sign out front announced a gastropub on the first floor, a hair salon on the second, and a pornographic bookstore on the third. But as Jun looked up, the building continued for another three stories. The windows were sparser on the upper floors, containing tinted glass blocks rather than usual window glass. This had to be it. He looked left and looked right before slipping through the doorway.

The stairs were narrow but well-kept, not a squeak to be heard as he climbed up to the fourth floor. Though there'd been no mail slot or sign in the downstairs hall, the thick wooden door on the fourth floor landing had a nameplate and buzzer beside it. The Face Down Club.

He pressed the buzzer, glancing up and catching a small video camera in the corner that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't thought to look. Well, they'd seen him now. The door opened, revealing a woman his age, maybe a little younger dressed neatly in a plain blouse and floral skirt. It was definitely not what he'd been expecting. 

"You must be Matsumoto-san," she said quietly, inclining her head and holding the door open for him. "Won't you please come in?"

He was greeted with the sight of plain beige walls and hardwood floors, a generic looking office if Jun had ever seen one. This room contained only a desk, a printer, a few plants, and some hard-backed chairs. Another camera took in the sights from the corner near the glass block window. A water cooler bubbled and hummed in the corner near another door that probably led to the other rooms of the "club."

The woman gestured for him to have a seat. "My name is Inoue," she said by way of introduction. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she was probably quite cute if she smiled. But she was right to business in an instant.

She sat at the desk, popping up the lid on a laptop and typing at a furious pace. "You're here on a personal recommendation," Inoue said, nodding as her eyes darted back and forth across the screen. "Matsumoto Jun-san, age thirty. Single. Working in the foodservice industry, works evenings until late."

He swallowed, crossing one leg over another. This was starting off more like a job interview. He looked down at his jeans, noticing a hole just beside his knee. Was there already a strike against him? "Yes, a friend made the uh, appointment for me."

At that, Inoue-san did finally smile. "Please don't be nervous. We're all about ensuring your happiness here, Matsumoto-san. We understand that it's difficult to be open and honest about your true wishes and desires." She clicked her mouse, setting off the printer. "Before we move forward, I'll need you to fill out and sign these for me."

She got up, bringing the sheets over to set down in front of him. She slid a pen over, marking little x's where he was to sign. He blinked at the mass of paper before him. A ten-page non-disclosure agreement, stating that he would face a stiff financial penalty if he told anyone what went on at the Face Down Club or if he revealed details about his partner or anyone else he met on premises. A detailed list of charges for the club's services and facilities. A little more expensive than he'd anticipated, but within his budget. Three separate health forms. And the most alarming, a double-sided mostly blank sheet asking him to describe his ideal sexual partner and his likes and dislikes in sexual situations.

He watched Inoue-san's face remain perfectly passive as she marked a big black x at the bottom of the "kink" sheet. "Nothing is too outlandish, Matsumoto-san," she explained. "But do be completely forthcoming with your dislikes. Out of respect for both yourself and for any potential partners we match you with."

She handed him the pen and he took it with shaking fingers. His whole dating life had consisted of hookups at bars, the occasional date with someone from online. It had all come down to the physical, fulfilling a need. Sex with strangers. So what did he really want in a person anyway? He'd never really dated long-term - work and his own paranoia about his preferences always got in the way of that.

Inoue-san moved to the door, stepping into the next room to give him privacy to fill out the sheets. He wrote as neatly as he could, nervousness seeping through to the bone. All of this to find him a date. This was more than most marriage interviews entailed. He got through the health sheets quickly, noticing that by signing it he was required to get a complete physical along with thorough STD testing. That made him feel a little better. The Face Down Club was just as safety-conscious as it was secretive. Knowing that anyone else visiting the place had to go through this too was reassuring. He wondered just what kind of people came through the door around here. Celebrities? Politicians? How had Nino even gotten him in here? And who would they match him with?

So what did he want? Who did he want? Jun was exacting in almost everything. He liked control. He liked going from raw ingredients to finished product, controlling everything along the way from doling out flour to slicing into a just-cooled pie with precision. That eye for detail carried into every aspect of his life as a patissier, and he had exacting standards for the cleanliness of his work station and the behaviors of the dessert staff under him. 

So when Inoue-san returned, Jun was just finishing up his list of requirements and preferences. He was exacting in every way professionally, and because of it, nobody really knew how much he craved for that control to be stolen away behind closed doors. He finished the list with a decisive slash of ink on the paper and his signature.

_I'd like for someone else to take charge._

He slid the papers across to Inoue-san, who only glanced over them to ensure he'd completed everything. No blushing, no eyebrow raising. She opened the desk drawer and pulled out another card on that thick, red card stock. It only had an address. "We have a standing appointment schedule with the East Bunkyo Clinic. They are extremely discreet. Please visit them in the next week, and your results will be forwarded to us. Once we have confirmation of your health and disease-free status, we will be in touch for your first arrangement." She smiled warmly. "Do you prefer email, telephone, or direct mail? Any messages will come from the name 'Rainbow Dry Cleaners' directing you to pick up your suit at a certain time so as to conceal the true nature of the message. Is that agreeable?"

"It is completely agreeable," Jun replied, exhaling in relief. "Phone will be fine. Voicemail if I'm working."

Inoue-san rose and he joined her. She held out her hand, offering a rather firm shake for a woman. As if she knew him better than he knew himself already. Perhaps someone in her line of work usually did. "Billing statements will also come from Rainbow Dry Cleaners in installments so no charges look out of line. With the mobile banking arrangement, I'm certain that we will meet your needs for privacy. I just know we'll find someone perfect for you, Matsumoto-san."

And if not you just signed your life away and we have it on camera, he thought cynically, praying this whole thing wasn't a scam. He'd kill Nino if that was the case.

She escorted him out, leaving him back in Shibuya with a bit of a spring in his step. He thought back on everything he'd written, everything he craved in another person. Things he'd always assumed he'd never have, things he'd never experience because he wasn't like other men. Love with feelings behind it. Love and his work in total balance. Did he even dare to hope?

\--

The East Bunkyo Clinic looked no different from any other with a healthy mix of mothers scolding their frightened children, a young couple, and an elderly man sitting in the waiting room upon his arrival. Eventually a male nurse opened the door and called his name with little enthusiasm, and Jun followed him.

But that was when he realized things were a little different. He followed the nurse past several waiting rooms to a staircase and was brought to a private room one floor above. Unlike the standard exam rooms Jun had been in before (exam table, squeaky chair on wheels, jars full of tongue depressors), this one had its own en-suite bathroom and a computer set up.

The nurse shut the door, looking rather bored with his life. He had rather messy hair and the shirt of his scrubs was half tucked in, half out of his slacks. He sniffed a little noisily as he booted up the computer, cracking his neck as he stretched a bit. "I'm Ohno, I'll be taking care of your exams today."

Jun nodded, trying not to look overly curious as the guy got set up for the exam. How this person had gotten through nursing school he'd never know, but perhaps his laid-back demeanor was a smokescreen to hide the clinic's arrangement with the Face Down Club. The physical exam was as typical as any other - the nurse listened to his heartbeat, checked his blood pressure, weighed him, jotting everything down in what seemed like the worst handwriting he'd ever seen before typing it up again into the computer.

He was a quiet guy too, only speaking in short, clipped sentences. "Turn right, please." "Breathe in and then out, please." With the usual exam out of the way, Nurse Ohno finally met his eyes. "Alright, Matsumoto-san, now for the fun part."

The guy grabbed a plastic-wrapped specimen cup from the counter beside the exam table. "Urine sample, please, if you're ready. Unless you want your blood draw first."

He opted for the blood draw, looking away as Ohno jabbed at him, finding a vein on his first try. Well, he was much better at his job than he looked. Afterward he took his time in the bathroom, returning to find Ohno waiting for him with his eyes closed. He had to give the man a shake to continue the exam.

He'd had STD tests before, but never with another man doing the exam, and never someone with the personality of a robot. He shifted a bit uncomfortably as Ohno moved over to the computer, leaning with his elbow on the desktop as he meandered his way through Jun's rather dull sexual history, clicking and typing away as he filled out whatever form the Face Down Club seemingly required.

In the same monotone he'd used all along and without so much as a blink, he read off the computer screen and asked Jun about every conceivable sexual practice, asked him about sexual positions, condom use, and even how often he masturbated. "Have you masturbated today?" Type type type. "Have you masturbated in the past week?" Type type type. "When engaging in anal intercourse, how often are you the penetrating partner? The receiving partner?" Type type type.

By the end of it Jun was mentally exhausted, wondering if his answers today were also going to factor in to the Face Down Club's matchmaking. He also couldn't help wondering what this Ohno thought of him. Was this how he spent his life, giving secret STD tests to closeted gay men? If only Nino could see this. He'd be over the moon, laughing at Jun's discomfort. He'd probably find Nurse Ohno's existence fascinating too.

Finally the exam was over and he bid Ohno and the East Bunkyo Clinic farewell. He spent the next few days hearing the guy's voice in his head, the almost bored way he asked about the most minute of sexual topics without batting an eye. He hoped that all this would be worth it. The red card had given the promise of something secret, something exciting. And so far it had been nothing but paperwork and pissing in a cup.

But three days later his phone rang and it was Inoue-san, though she introduced herself as Rainbow Dry Cleaners. The weirdness of the past few days vanished and his heart set to racing. She only had one message for him. "Matsumoto-san, thank you for choosing Rainbow Dry Cleaners. We are calling to confirm receipt of your suit. Everything looks manageable, and you should hear from us again soon."

When he opened his mouth to ask how long 'soon' might be, Inoue-san had already hung up.

\--

Nino had been on him since the day of the interview at the club, begging for details. Jun had only implied that the interview had gone well and he was waiting for a match. And wait he unfortunately did. Unlike the instant gratification of a night out at a bar or a club, where he needed only a few drinks in his system to settle on a match for the night, the Face Down Club kept him waiting. But instant gratification always brought that emptiness, that shallowness when it was over. A stranger in the bed inclining his head, not making eye contact, slipping from Jun's apartment just after sunrise with the smell of cheap vodka and cigarette smoke still clinging to his clothes. 

The Face Down Club promised more than that at least.

As the days passed, however, Nino seemed to sense Jun's impatience, giving him space in the hot, crowded restaurant kitchen. He'd probably even spoken to Jun's crew because Aiba-kun and Nana-chan were at peak performance, not one slip-up to give Jun cause to scream at them. Jun was fairly certain that he was making some of the best cakes of his life while he waited, all his nervous energy expelling itself out of the oven. Even the head chef pulled his head out of his ass and asked Nino to relay a compliment from a table of visiting American businessmen one evening.

He was home sleeping off one of those marathon cake performances when his phone vibrated with a voicemail in the middle of the night, jolting him from sleep. Let it go, his body told him. Listen in the morning. His clock read 4:13 AM when he scrambled for the bedside table anyway, flipping open his phone in seconds.

He'd taken out his contacts, squinting in the darkness as he keyed in his password. Finally, the comforting tones of Inoue-san's voice returned. She sounded as calm and collected at 4:00 in the morning as she did at any other time. It was a pre-recorded message. She gave him a date and time to pick up his suit: the following Tuesday at noon. Which based on the papers he'd signed actually meant midnight. He'd have to rush to get over to Shibuya after closing, but that would just add to the excitement.

He hung up. No name. No details. Just the date and time. He told Nino as much the following evening, lost in that strange place between anxiousness about the partner the club had found for him and relief that they'd found someone for him at all. Nino even sent Jun home early on a few evenings, shutting the entire kitchen down on time for once to reward everyone's hard work and give them a well-earned break. 

But those extra hours only left Jun focusing on himself. Without work, he was left to his own devices. Left to ponder his failings, his insecurities. He'd never been on a blind date, never anything like this. Just what awaited him at the Face Down Club in a matter of days? And who? What should he wear? What should he say? Would the person even want to know his name? Would Jun like him? Would he like Jun?

Tuesday arrived and with it every ounce of self-loathing Jun thought he'd stamped out of himself years earlier when he'd come to terms with who he was. He worried about his face, if his rather large features were a turn-off. He worried about his stomach, if he should have worked out more or less. He worried about his body, if he was too hairy, too tall, too short, too skinny. He was vain, picking at his teeth, fussing with his eyebrows, even asking with a straight face for Nino to smell him. "You smell like a fucking Mont Blanc, so just tell this guy to gobble you up," was his friend's unhelpful response.

On the ride across town from the restaurant in Sumida to the back alleys of Shibuya, he nearly got off the train to vomit up the nothing he'd had for dinner. What if he was a disappointment? What if it was a bad match? What if the Face Down Club never called him for a meet-up again? Was he doomed to a life of celibacy and cake?

The streets were livelier now, nobody paying Jun a bit of attention as he navigated his way around this time, seeing drunken groups of friends, couples holding hands. And somewhere in this crowd was his partner for the evening unless he was already there, waiting. Was he a regular? A first timer? Handsome? Ugly? If anything they already had a strong need for privacy in common, so he at least didn't have to worry about this guy shouting complaints from the rooftops.

There were still diners at the pub when he made it to the building but nobody in the stairwell as he made his way to the fourth floor. A different person than Inoue-san opened the door when he pushed the buzzer, this time a middle-aged bald man in a business suit. He offered no greetings, only asking Jun for his name. The man then opened a drawer, handing Jun a red envelope.

It bore a number, 605, and inside was only a key card.

"Please proceed to this room on the sixth floor. If you remain on premises, we ask that you vacate by 8:00 AM. If you choose to leave before that, please return your keycards to this desk." The man moved to the other door of the office that Inoue-san had passed through during his interview.

Jun clutched the envelope in hand, seeing no judgment from the man. He merely held the door for Jun, shutting it behind him. He was now in a hallway full of numbered doors - 402 through 405. He imagined the set-up was the same on those above. At the end of the hall was another stairwell. He heard a door open when he climbed up past the fifth floor, finding himself hurrying a bit so that he wasn't seen by anyone else. Not that it really mattered.

The sixth floor hall was empty. The lighting was low, only a few pale sconces bolted against the dark walls. Each door had a slot for the key card over the handle, little red lights glowing. 605 was at the very end, and his heart pounded as he approached, clutching the plastic card in his sweaty fingers. Was his partner already inside?

He found himself knocking out of habit. He waited a good thirty seconds before slipping the keycard into the reader, hearing a soft beep and seeing the red light turn green as the lock disengaged. It opened inward, and he pushed inside, finding himself alone. 

Where he expected the standard hotel-type set-up, Jun discovered that wasn't necessarily what the Face Down Club meant to provide. Instead of a bed he found only a dark hardwood floor, so dark it was nearly black in the room's low light. And the walls, he noticed, the walls were as red as those Face Down Club business cards. There was barely anything else there - only a white plastic Lawson bag in the corner that looked disturbingly out of place and a chair in the center of the room, some track lighting keeping it under a spotlight.

It was a lived-in chair, a piece of furniture with a history. It was a dark brown leather with overstuffed sturdy arms and a rather lush looking cushion. A door at the back led to a shower, toilet, and sink in a small bathroom. He found that the Lawson bag contained a packet of condoms, a small bottle of lube, a receipt noting the purchase of the items that very afternoon paid in cash, and a soft black sleeping mask presumably to serve as a blindfold.

He set the bag down, swallowing another lump of nervousness. Another red envelope was placed on the chair, bearing the name "Matsumoto-sama."

Inside, a typed note: "Your partner will arrive at 12:30. Please silence your cell phone, shower, and put on the blindfold. Sit in the chair and wait for his arrival. Thank you."

And like that Jun's first session at the Face Down Club began.

\--

He'd done as the note directed, turning his phone completely off and hitting the shower. Unsure if his partner preferred him dressed or undressed, he chose dressed, tugging his boxers, jeans, and v-neck tee back on, leaving his socks and sneakers in the corner of the room with his jacket on top. He nervously dug the sleep mask out of the Lawson bag, shoving the plastic wrapper inside once he'd pried the package open. 

He settled himself in the chair, running his fingers through his damp hair. He only wished he'd had another shirt to change into, his clean body now housed inside the shirt he'd nearly sweated through on the subway. The cushion was comfortable and he sat with his back solidly against it, opting for good posture. He'd specified on his form that he wanted to relinquish control to another - he had to follow those directions as the card ordered.

The red walls and dark floor vanished as he slipped the mask on, turning his world black. This part of the floor was away from the street. He couldn't hear any outside noise. Perhaps they'd soundproofed the building. He only heard the sound of his own breathing, the spare drips coming from the shower head in the bathroom. There'd been two towels, and he'd used one, folding it over the rack.

What time was it? Was it almost time?

He had no sense of it. He could have been in the chair, blind and vulnerable, for seconds or hours, but finally there was a soft tap of knuckles against the door followed by the beeping noise of a swiped keycard. Jun held his breath, his arms crossed over his chest, as the door pushed open and he heard footsteps. Did he say hello? Did he say nothing?

He opted for nothing, his senses amplified to an almost painful degree as the person closed the door and bolted it. The footsteps drew nearer, the sound going from his right to his left and around again. The person was circling him, but at a distance. Jun thought he could vaguely smell smoke, maybe a beer or two coming from the stranger's clothes. He had absolutely no way of knowing who was standing in front of him unless he broke the rules, and he'd worked so diligently to get to this moment that he didn't dare remove the mask from his face.

Finally the footsteps stopped. He could hear the other man breathing, definitely a man. He could just sense it was a man from the shoes and his scent. "Keep the mask on, please, and do as I say."

His voice was deeper than Jun's own, crisp and clipped. A proper voice offering no greeting, no introduction. Jun could only nod his assent. How much did this person know about him? At the very least he knew that Jun had obeyed, that Jun was willing to submit.

He tried to keep breathing, hearing the other man rustle around in the Lawson bag, heard the unzipping and shuffling sound of clothes that indicated his partner was taking off his jacket, settling it on the floor somewhere near Jun's discarded one.

When the man approached again, softer on his feet this time, Jun couldn't help himself. Exhaling a breath, he uncrossed his arms and squeezed his knees for courage. "This is my first time here. I...I just needed you to know that."

He heard the man shuffle from foot to foot. There was no anger or disappointment when he next spoke, making the hairs on Jun's arms rise. His voice was like warm honey when he said "I knew that. You're exactly what I wanted."

Such praise from a complete stranger, a stranger he couldn't see, made him tear up the slightest bit and he was almost grateful for the mask's placement now. Keep it together, he told himself. You're sitting here in the dark and you don't know what he's going to do to you yet. 

But you're exactly what he's looking for.

The footsteps returned and this time the stranger circled him more closely. Now that Jun was listening carefully, he imagined that the man was close to him in age. He wasn't younger and he certainly didn't sound old. 

"Put your hands on the arms of the chair," he was ordered and dutifully obeyed. "That's good. You're very good." 

He bit his lip, feeling warm fingers brush against his arm, tracing slowly only for them to be withdrawn soon after. He couldn't get a sense of this guy, not really. He only had the voice that was driving him mad and the feather-light touches of his fingers. Soon they were on his other arm, turning it so those fingers could tickle along the inside of his elbow, could tease at his biceps. 

He was already growing uncomfortable in his jeans, his erection making itself known. He'd been hard from the second the stranger had first spoken. There was something familiar about the man's voice, something almost comforting, but Jun couldn't place him. Couldn't remember him. He was probably just imagining things, getting lost in the sound of it as he continued to circle. But he already knew that he'd gotten his money's worth signing up for the Face Down Club.

Soon he took up residence behind Jun, standing behind the chair. Jun allowed the other man to trace the line of his jaw, to brush his thumb across his lips. The man's fingers buried themselves in his hair, giving a slight tug to pull Jun back, making him lean and tilt his head up, exposing his throat. The mask kept the stranger hidden, and Jun kept the mystery certain by shutting his eyes tight. 

He couldn't keep in his moan of satisfaction when those fingers stroked along his neck, worshipped his skin, slid along the v-neck's collar and underneath to stroke at his collarbone. Whatever he'd been expecting in the Face Down Club hadn't been this. He'd anticipated the guy taking a shower and either settling for a blowjob or a quick fuck. He hadn't expected to be teased and tortured so wonderfully.

He wanted to bite down on the stranger's fingers, wanted to take them in his mouth and suck. But somehow he was compelled to obey. He found it all too easy, all too satisfying to relinquish the control he usually craved. All for someone he could only hear, could only smell, could only feel.

The voice materialized even closer, and he groaned at the sound of it right beside his ear. "Unzip your jeans. I'll be right back."

Jun soon found himself alone again, heard the sound of the sink running briefly in the tiny bathroom. He unzipped as ordered, almost relieved to do so. Then his partner was back, skimming his fingers back along his jaw. "Are you hard because this is your first time or are you hard because of me?"

He didn't know the right answer, moaning again when he felt the warmth of the man's mouth for the first time, felt the firm press of lips against the shell of his ear, another kiss lost in his hair. "I don't...I..."

The man's chuckle wasn't mean-spirited. "I'm just fucking with you." He received another kiss, this time to his temple. "Now you're going to jack off and I'm going to watch you."

The change in tone was remarkable, from teasing to ordering in a split second. He bit his lip, worrying that he was going to graze the head of his cock with his thumb and come in seconds, ruining the moment. But the stranger's orders were orders and despite the foreign nature of the request (Jun had never masturbated in front of anyone before) he was willing to comply.

He pulled himself from his trousers, stroking himself fully hard. He heard murmured sounds of approval from behind him; the stranger was still standing there, looking down on him from behind. A constant presence, a shadow, wanting to see Jun touch himself.

"Come on," the man said. "Don't be shy. No need to be shy with me."

Jun paused with his hand wrapped around his cock, hoping there were no hidden cameras in here documenting this. "I've never...I don't even know your..."

"Sssh, maybe some other time. Tonight I want to see what you look and sound like when you come, that's all." The man's fingers clenched in his hair - not to be cruel but to make his orders clear. "Now get yourself off."

He wondered if he'd ever been this turned on in his life, if he'd ever allowed himself to be. He'd spent most of his adult life in drunken fumbles, sloppy handjobs. This person knew exactly what he wanted from Jun, and he'd already implied that things weren't ending tonight. That there was the possibility of another encounter. It was this knowledge, the possibility of hearing the man's rough, encouraging voice another time, that got him going, hand working his cock as though he was in the comfort of his own home with some awful porn on mute.

It helped all the more as he heard the stranger unzip his own slacks, heard the mirrored, slick sound of another masturbating hand behind him. The man jerked himself with his right hand and the fingers of his left dug painfully into Jun's shoulder, gripping tight. The guy was getting off to Jun getting off. It only urged him on, hearing the control in the other man's voice lessen, heard his little exhaled gasps of pleasure as they mingled with Jun's own.

It wouldn't be long, and he bit back a groan, losing himself in everything that had happened since he'd set foot in room 605. He didn't know this man's face, didn't know his name, and he'd never wanted someone so much. The guy could be ugly as sin and Jun didn't care in the least, knowing only the man's voice, only the man's exacting touch and demands. 

"I want to watch you come," the guy was panting now. "Do you like that I'm watching?"

Jun nodded, gasping, arching up a bit off the cushion. It would be seconds, mere seconds.

"Go on then."

He gave no thought to still being in his clothes, no thought to being in the red room in the worn leather chair, no thought to what he looked like. It was like nothing he'd ever felt, letting go of his pride and finding that perfect release, feeling come hit his t-shirt, hand trembling as his body shook with the force of his orgasm. Hearing the murmured approvals, the gentle moans of the stranger behind him.

He could only sit there, clothes and fingers sticky with his release, as the man stroked himself behind him. "Perfect, you're perfect," Jun heard, riding a blissful wave, knowing that he'd succeeded. He'd pleased this stranger. He'd passed every test the Face Down Club had set. The stranger's breath caught in his throat, and Jun could only listen to the sound of the other man as he came, the deep, satisfied moaning. He had no idea if the man had come on himself, onto the chair, or maybe on a towel from the bathroom. All he could do was sit and wait for what was to come.

Jun felt a sudden absence of warmth, then heard the sink again. It jarred him out of the moment a bit. When the man next spoke he was already grabbing his jacket, zipping it back up. Jun was still sitting there covered in his own come. An abrupt ending.

"Can I see you again?"

Jun couldn't help but blurt out "that's it?"

He was rewarded with a soft chuckle, a pat on the shoulder. "I'm really sorry to cut this short. Truly." Jun was surprised when the man kissed him on the cheek, a rather awkward little peck that seemed nothing like the personality of the stranger who'd just watched him touch himself. Like a switch had been thrown. "I'll set something up again soon. I just...I have to get home. Did you, uh..." For the first time Jun heard hesitation. "...that is, if you'd like to meet up again..."

Jun was surprised at his own calm, at his ability to keep the mask on, not wrench it off to confront the guy who was already leaving. "Yes, I'd like to, but are you even going to tell me a thing about yourself? Is this how everything works here?"

"No," the man admitted. "No, this wasn't typical. And I'm sorry. I swear I'll make it up to you."

"Will you even let me see you?"

The man was quiet again, absent-mindedly stroking his fingers through Jun's hair with none of the confidence he'd had earlier. Almost as though all of the energy and control that had started their encounter had vanished. His voice wasn't as steady or certain, as though he was as full of complexes as Jun himself was. He'd been so convincing...

"I'll set up another session. Does this time work?"

Jun cocked his head to the side, wanting to clean himself up but forcing himself to still submit to the stranger's wishes. "This time works better if you stay a little longer. But yeah."

"I really did enjoy this," the man admitted, stepping back. "I honestly did, and I haven't before. Not here at Face Down."

That made Jun feel the slightest bit better. He decided to be a bit more forgiving. Maybe it was easy to give in to the physical here, but once you had, what was there to say? He held his head high. "My name is Jun," he offered. "And I'll see you next time."

The man didn't reciprocate, only clearing his throat. "It was good to meet you, Jun."

He heard the door open and close, and he pulled the mask off in frustration. He flung it across the room, hearing it thunk against the door. Everything he'd wanted had been in his grasp. The man had wanted him, had gotten him, but where did that leave him now? It only left him thirsty for more.

In irritation he cleaned himself up, giving up on his t-shirt entirely and shoving it into the Lawson bag. He decided that the already paid for condoms and lube would be his parting gift for the night. He zipped up his jacket and checked the room for any sign of the man who'd been there just minutes earlier. All he could find was one of the hand towels from the bathroom tossed on the damp floor of the shower, probably stiff with dried come. The only evidence that there'd been another person here.

He sighed, making sure he left no trace of himself behind. The bald man was sitting at the desk on the fourth floor reading a book when Jun returned, setting down the key card. "Have a pleasant evening," the man said, turning a page as Jun exited.

\--

He spent the next few days confused and frustrated. He'd been so turned on, had loved the secrecy and tension the encounter with the stranger had brought about. But he'd been left hanging, not knowing a thing about the person he'd been with. And then of course he'd been stupid enough to give his name so easily, receiving no such courtesy in return.

Every time his phone vibrated with a call or mail message, he anxiously checked it, wondering if it would be the calm voice of Inoue-san informing him that yet another suit was ready. Nino seemed to sense that something had happened, something that Jun wasn't ready or willing to talk about. He steered clear for once, and Jun was grateful for it.

As the days passed and his anger and confusion subsided, Jun decided that he was being overly presumptuous about what the Face Down Club was really about. He'd had an enjoyable if non-traditional experience. He'd had privacy. And it had only been the first time. What more did he need? He'd apologize to his partner for being rude...if he ever did go ahead and set up another session.

Instead of a call from Inoue-san, however, Jun was surprised by the sudden arrival of a package during work hours four days after his first session, addressed to him with no return identification. It was a small, narrow box, and he shoved it in his locker before the other staff could see, returning to the kitchen and his own work. Nino found him later that evening, grinning from ear to ear. "Gifts from a secret admirer?" his friend asked. 

Jun took the package from his locker, unwrapping it and gasping in surprise. Even Nino was speechless at the sight of the watch inside. Not a Rolex, but far from cheap. Maybe two months' rent for Jun easily. Smuggled inside the watch box was a handwritten note that simply said "I'm sorry."

"Jesus," Nino finally said. "Are you that good?"

Jun shoved the note in his pocket, closing the watch case and slipping it into his jacket. No return address, no mention of Rainbow Dry Cleaners. But Jun was convinced his mysterious partner was behind this. He'd probably gone through the Face Down Club, arranging for the gift to be sent to Jun quietly. 

He didn't know what to think. He'd never gotten such an extravagant gift in his entire life. He'd learned something altogether new about the person the Face Down Club had matched him with - he was either extremely wealthy or extremely reckless with his money. 

When he got back to his apartment that night, he set the watch on the table, listened to its precise ticking. How could he accept such a thing from someone he barely knew? Was this the type of person who bought people off regularly? Or was the feeling behind it genuine? It was a beautiful watch, elegant and so perfectly matched to his tastes. It wasn't a frivolous purchase, not something a person went in and picked on a whim. 

Who was he? A politician used to bribes? Some executive earning millions? Some business conglomerate heir?

Jun answered Inoue-san's phone call on the first ring just as he was getting into bed. Her pre-recorded voice requested he arrive at noon to pick up his suit tomorrow. This time Jun was going to accessorize a bit.

\--

He was assigned to 605 once again, but this time there was a little more confidence in his step as he climbed the stairs, swiping the card on the sixth floor. The room was unchanged - the chair, the tiny bathroom, and the red, red walls. Even the bag on the floor with a newly purchased black sleep mask, still wrapped in plastic.

The envelope on the chair bid him to repeat the process from last time - shower, blindfold, sit and wait. He obeyed, this time stripping bare, placing himself on the cool leather seat with the watch as his only adornment. This time he decided to let his partner know everything he had paid for.

The man arrived earlier this time, swiping his card and opening the door. Jun heard it close almost immediately, the stranger scrambling with the lock.

His voice was light, happy. Perhaps he was pleased at Jun's decision to disrobe entirely. "You have no idea how glad I am that that watch got to you. I'm not used to doing things that way."

Jun lifted his wrist, feeling the weight of it against his skin. "That's some apology." He cocked his head. "I didn't mean to give off the impression that I was angry with you...that I expected to be compensated for my trouble..."

The guy took off his shoes, shed his clothes. "You didn't have a watch. Now you do. It looks perfect on you. And that's all there is to it." He sensed the stranger's approach. "I'm showering. I want you to stay absolutely still in this chair until I return." 

Jun nodded, growing anxious once again. But unlike last time he wanted to keep his expectations reasonable. The guy had bought him an expensive watch. He wasn't taking Jun and the Face Down Club set-up lightly. It was only a few minutes before the stranger was back, damp fingers stroking along Jun's arms.

"Here, slip it off. I'll put it by your shoes," the man said, already undoing the watch's clasp. Good thinking. He felt the weight lift, heard the man's feet slap against the floor and then return.

On their previous encounter, his partner had initiated all the contact, had kept his distance. Now Jun felt the stranger's hands grasp his, pull him up and out of the chair. And then he was flush against him, gasp lost in the other man's mouth. He'd barely toweled off from the shower, and Jun found his body wet to the touch. Without removing the blindfold, he took his time discovering and his partner allowed him.

His lips were soft, had the slightest medicinal-smelling hint of lip balm. The stranger's hands found the small of Jun's back, pulled their bodies together. The both of them barefoot, Jun discovered they were of a similar height. Jun was maybe a few millimeters taller. The other man's cock was already hard, pressing against Jun's thigh as they kissed.

Jun touched every bit he could, reveling in the opportunity. There was not the distance of their previous encounter. He grasped at the man's face, finding his skin smooth. He broke their kiss, brushing his fingers across the other man's lips, tracing them, exploring his cheekbones, his jaw as though he were blind. He moved down, touching where he could. The man's neck was thicker, his shoulders narrower than Jun's and more angled. But it was the body of someone who took care of himself. His arms were firm, his ab muscles firmly defined. And his ass...

"Greedy," the man said when Jun's hands moved from front to back, sliding down and grabbing hold. "Jun, you are the greedy type."

It felt so good to hear his name coming from the stranger's mouth, from those lips he wanted to kiss again and again. So he did just that, hearing something close to a growl of pleasure emerge from his partner. A sexy voice, a great body. He'd never hit the jackpot like this before. He didn't want this appointment, this night, to end.

"When will you tell me your name?" Jun asked, trying to commit all of this to memory, groaning in delight when the other man reached between them, stroked his cock. "Do you plan to tell me anything?"

The man released him, turning them so Jun's back was to him. He was rewarded with firm kisses to his nape, along his shoulders and shoulder blades. "Prove yourself to me, then," the man said. "Come back to me whenever I ask for you. Then maybe I'll tell you."

"How come you're keeping me in the dark?"

"Because," the stranger said, tracing his finger down Jun's spine and making him jump. "It pisses you off, doesn't it?"

Jun chuckled a bit, wishing he could go back in time, make a few adjustments to his paperwork. He didn't want to be out of control forever. 

"Suck me off tonight," the man whispered, tongue curling around his ear lobe. "And maybe next time I'll fuck you."

"I'll suck you off," Jun said in reply, "and then next time you tell me one thing about yourself. And then you can do whatever you want to me."

"You're negotiating with me? When I got that call from Inoue-san saying she's got someone perfect for me? Someone open to being toyed with? Someone who'll let me run the show?"

Jun had a difficult time imagining anything of the sort coming from the prim and proper Inoue-san. But it did make him wonder just what kind of details were on this stranger's form, what exactly he was looking for. 

"Jun, I asked you a question." He was reprimanded with a jab of fingers to his side, catching him in a ticklish spot and making him squirm. 

"It's not a negotiation, not precisely," he managed to say, only to feel the other man yank him along. He was shoved down to his knees, heard the sound of body meeting leather as his partner settled himself in the chair. "I just think it would make me want to please you more. If I got to know you."

"I see." 

Jun inched along the floor until he found the other man's legs, spread wide so Jun could kneel easily between them. His partner was sitting at the edge of the cushion, his fingers moving to the back of Jun's head to get him into place. 

"Show me how good that mouth of yours is, and I may consider readjusting my timetable."

It was enough to spur him on, hearing the challenge in the other man's voice. As though an order had come in at the restaurant, some food critic ready to scoff at whatever was presented. These were the challenges Jun liked best. 

He spent the better part of an hour proving his talents, licking and sucking at the stranger's perfect cock, stopping to take a breather and rest his hardworking jaw every time he came close to orgasm. At first, the stranger wasn't so fond of the teasing, but Jun made up for it, brushing gentle kisses to his stomach, along the sensitive skin of his thighs. Touching and stroking, unrelenting. It was Jun's name, husky and almost breathless on his partner's lips when he finally came, fingers tangled up in his hair and gasping.

It was quiet for a while after that, Jun waiting patiently at the man's feet, hearing him struggle to catch his breath. He was finally rewarded with the relaxed sound of the other man's laughter.

"That was...that was..." he said, unable to find the words. "You're so perfect, I don't deserve you."

Jun felt his cheeks flush at the unadulterated praise. He was helped to his feet, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you," was all he could say.

He was ordered to stay where he was, feeling the slightest disappointment when the man pulled on his clothes, zipped up his jacket. Soon the man was behind him, embracing him, resting his cheek against Jun's warm, bare skin. "As soon as I leave, I want you to touch yourself. Touch yourself and think of me. Will you do that?" Jun nodded. "Just think about how hard I'm going to fuck you the next time we meet. That should help you along, right?"

He couldn't help groaning, feeling the man's fingers graze along his hip bones. "And Jun?"

"Yes?"

"Something about me...something about me." The stranger searched for the words, fingers tracing figure eights on Jun's skin possessively. "Why don't you call me 'Sensei' next time?"

"You're a doctor? A teacher?"

The other man's fingers danced across his skin, sliding along his stomach. "Wear your watch."

Then he was gone, opening and closing the door firmly. Jun stumbled his way to the shower, leaving his blindfold on as he turned on the water. His moans echoed off the bathroom tile, imagining not his own hand but the stranger's as he jerked himself off.

\--

The Face Down Club slowly became an addiction for Jun as well as for his mystery man, Sensei. There'd been five days between the first and second sessions, but Inoue-san called Jun only three days later and Jun eagerly awaited their next encounter. He wasn't used to this, to second times and thirds. He wasn't used to someone specifically demanding him, not like this.

He wore his watch everywhere as requested. Out for groceries, sitting in front of the TV. He even kept it in the pocket of his jacket at work, unwilling to leave it at home or in his locker. Nino sensed the change in him, sneaking smiles across the steaming kitchen, even managing a thumbs up that made Jun blush. 

Sensei. Why don't you call me 'Sensei' next time? What kind of teacher's salary could afford a watch like that? Lawyer was a possibility, but this man and Jun kept late schedules. Maybe doctor was the more logical solution. Or maybe this guy was just arrogant, Jun told himself. Maybe he was just teasing.

He kneaded dough, frosted cakes with almost infuriating precision, all in sharp contrast to the personality he kept on display for Sensei. The all too willing acolyte. Sensei's pupil, he thought with a laugh. Sensei's difficult patient who had to be taught a lesson.

Jun was still a little shocked when their time arrived, and he found himself once again in the sparsely appointed room. Sensei had been all too clear about the evening's itinerary but he apparently hadn't thought a room with a bed was necessary. He waited diligently in the chair as he had the previous time, wearing his watch and eagerly awaiting the man's arrival.

He was late this time, apologizing by greeting Jun with a kiss so full of need that it made him weak in the knees. "Sensei," he murmured when he was finally released, hearing the other man's spirited laugh.

"Perfect. Just what I wanted to hear." 

He left Jun alone to go shower. It was tempting to remove the blindfold, tiptoe to the bathroom and at least take a glance at his mysterious lover. But then the game would be over. He didn't dare break the rules, no matter how much the curiosity was killing him. The man's body, the man's warm mouth and tongue would have to satisfy him. This was only their third meeting. If he wanted a fourth, he'd obey.

When the man returned, he decided that their first real fuck would be far more intimate than Jun had expected. He found himself facing his partner, straddling his lap as he sat in the chair. Completely blind, he could only squeeze his partner's shoulders and the back of the chair, biting his lip hard as he hovered a bit awkwardly above him. He heard the other man tear open a condom wrapper, settling it on himself. Then he stroked Jun's cock, teasing him for a while before slipping his hand lower. Sensei's fingers found his tight hole, slowly working him open. Jun wanted him so badly that he couldn't help urging Sensei along, gasping as the other man stroked inside him.

Finally, he couldn't take much more, begging in a way he'd never done before. His fingernails dug into the leather seat as their bodies came together, Jun taking Sensei in slowly, feeling the other man's sighs of contentment beneath him. It felt good, so damn good. He breathed in and out, sinking down to take in more of the man's cock. His body slowly adjusted to the sensation, and he gasped when the other man started kissing him, his tongue sliding along his lips.

Jun moved as much as their rather tight fit in the chair together allowed, moaning as Sensei's cock drove deeper and harder as they went along. He was full, totally full, with the other man's cock inside him and his tongue in his mouth. Sensei's hands were everywhere. In his hair as he deepened their kiss, sweaty fingers slipping along the muscles of his back before finally they moved down, squeezing Jun's ass.

They stayed like that even after Sensei came, Jun taking slight advantage of his partner's euphoria to suck along his collarbone, hearing the other man still whispering his name. There'd be marks there when he got home. Jun at least had the watch. Now Sensei would have his own proof of their connection.

It was longer tonight, their time together, and Sensei's touch on his skin was more lingering, a bit more needy than usual. He was less arrogant, and Jun found it all the more satisfying. If anything, their times together revolved around sex and Jun didn't have much of a problem with it. He was already addicted to it, already craved it. Already missed the feeling of the other man inside him when they lingered at the door, their swollen lips pressed together in near desperation.

"Tell me something more," Jun begged. "I've called you Sensei, haven't I? Tell me something or let me see you...please..."

"Well," he said, voice shaky. "Why don't you tell me something too? Fair's fair, Jun."

"But I've given you my name," he said huffily, sliding his fingers in the man's belt loops, reining himself in so he didn't strip him naked and beg for it again. "You've only given me a title. A nickname."

"And a really nice watch..."

"Fuck you," he whispered teasingly, rewarded with a graze of Sensei's teeth to his bottom lip. "It's not like I'm going to tattle on you and out myself at the same time..."

And somehow that set the man off, making him tremble in Jun's arms.

"What do you want me to say, Jun? That I lead a boring existence? That nobody knows I'm gay? That I can only be who I really am, who I want to be, inside this gaudy room? That they've set me up with a bunch of assholes here, but I kept trying because I didn't know how else to find someone? And that you're the first I've actually liked? That you're the first to actually open up that stupid wrapper and wear a blindfold for me, simply because I asked? That you haven't made fun of me for asking that of you? That I put little reminders in my phone that I get to see you as a way of getting through the day? That I'm going to go home and call Inoue-san first thing in the morning and beg her to set something up for tomorrow?" Sensei's hands found his back, pulling him closer. He was shaking. "How many somethings is that? Do you know enough about me now?"

"Sensei..."

"My name," the other man gritted out, "is Sho."

Jun was stunned. This wasn't just a game to him. He'd come to the Face Down Club just like Jun, nervous as hell and desperate to be matched. To find someone suitable. To be himself, if just for an hour. If just long enough to find release. But unlike Jun, he hadn't gotten lucky on his first time. Unlike Jun he'd been suffering, craving another person's understanding. There was a human being here in the room with him, not just a good fuck. All he could think to do was move to the blindfold, itching to take it off, but the other man stopped him. Sho stopped him.

"Please, don't. Not yet." He sighed. "I'm sorry this got so fucking dramatic...I just..."

Jun could only kiss him, taking the initiative and hoping it was okay. He kissed him quiet, kissed him until he calmed down, righted himself. Became the Sensei in control Jun had been so immediately attracted to, even without seeing his face.

"None of that was a lie," Sho said. It felt so good to put a name with the voice now. It made him all the more real. "I hadn't been here in a year when Inoue-san called about you. I almost turned her down..."

"We can just talk next time," Jun admitted. "I know the decor's a bit singularly focused, but if you want to talk I'll listen."

"Have you seen yourself in a mirror?" Sho asked, voice still a little skittish as he stroked Jun's face. "I doubt that I could limit myself to just talking..."

Jun felt his skin go hot. 

"I think we have a lot in common, you and I," Sho continued. "We've both been unhappy and alone for a little too long. We don't even know how to take compliments any longer."

He laughed, skin still burning with all the attention. He was only used to praise where his job was concerned. But he'd sensed it from the beginning, this connection with a stranger. A stranger who now had a name, an unfulfilled life that the Face Down Club was now attempting to fix. 

"Call Inoue-san tomorrow. I'll be here, and we can talk. Or not talk, I guess. If you haven't noticed, I like that part too."

Sho responded with a shove and a laugh, his hand on the doorknob. "Good night, Jun."

"Good night," he replied, stopping just short of calling Sho by name. He kept it for himself instead.

\--

Despite their little heart to heart, not talking still won out over talking. Sho requested Jun every night for two weeks straight. They exchanged pleasantries and called each other by name, but the allure of the secretive Face Down Club kept most of their encounters physical. 

Sho did reveal a reason as to why, revealing more about himself in the process - his school was being audited by a few upper class families who were considering sending their children. His days were stressful and would be for another week as the parents watched over his classes like a hawk. In return, he had a lot of tension to release and Jun didn't much mind. He sucked Sho off one night and got bent over room 605's chair and fucked from behind another. 

In those two weeks he learned Sho's body better than his own, learning only by touch, by scent, and by taste. He learned what turned Sho on and what didn't work as well. Sho learned him in equal measure, finding just the right phrases to whisper in Jun's ear, the filthiest words to say that made Jun putty in his hands, a slave to that deep, confident voice. 

And after what was quite possibly the most satisfying, most exhausting two weeks of his life, he inadvertently discovered Sho's secret. What Sho worked so hard to hide.

It explained how Sho could be a teacher and could still buy Jun an expensive watch on a whim. How he could demand a room at the Face Down Club fourteen nights in a row on the same teacher's salary. It also explained why Jun thought Sho's voice had been so familiar.

He was walking back from the club, having parted ways with Sho, coming upon Shibuya Station to grab a taxi. The city was still lit up even though the trains had stopped for the night, CMs playing and other promotional billboards lit up like a neon Christmas display. 

He hadn't even been paying attention until he heard the voice, turning his head. It lasted no longer than 30 seconds and was a CM that had played for years on TV. He'd just never thought to make the connection. After all, why would he? Sakurai Success Academy, a national chain of renowned juku. The most prestigious private schools offering supplementary curriculum in Japan, the CM boasted, with a 90% plus acceptance rate to Todai, Waseda, and other leading universities. 

Jun stood there, steps from Hachiko, as the school's wealthy founder Sakurai Shun smiled with his son and heir Sakurai Sho at his side, the pair of them in matching gray suits and ugly red ties, children of all ages cheering behind them. The two men looked very much alike, the son with bright eyes and a handsome, intelligent face. 

"Sakurai Success..." Sho announced cheerfully as the children chimed in with "Academy!" behind him.

The screen switched over to a beer ad, and Jun felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd betrayed Sho's trust, and he hadn't even meant to. But there was no way to erase what he'd seen. Because it had been him. The voice that whispered in his ear, who complained about students as though he could have worked at any school in the country. The man who said Jun's name in a breathy gasp when he came.

Now he understood why Sho had been so insistent on privacy. And probably why he'd been so desperate for a partner who'd wear a blindfold. His toothy, upbeat smile and dorky dad-matching tie had been on display in the cheesy commercial for years. Anybody would probably know him. And the patrons at the Face Down Club probably had. It was why Sho had nearly given up on the place.

He didn't know what to do. The surprise was gone. Sho wouldn't get to reveal his identity on his own terms. It wasn't necessarily Jun's fault, but he was still crushed by guilt. Jun had lived for years worried that someone would ruin his career, jeopardize his future. And who was he, really? Just a pastry chef in the restaurant of a second rate hotel. Sakurai Sho was the heir to a company. A company involved entirely with the children of Japan's elite circles. People's ignorance and intolerance would easily destroy the business if Sho's secret was out.

Sho's fantasy, wanting someone who didn't know him, had no preconceptions about him, had been crushed again. Unable to go through the motions, unwilling to show up and put on the blindfold and keep up the pretense, when Inoue-san called the following morning, Jun claimed to be ill and unable to pick up his suit. For the first time, he had startled the woman, hearing her clear her throat to regain her composure. "Please get well soon, Matsumoto-san. We will hold your suit until you are able to come in."

He hung up, wondering if he'd made the right decision at all.

\--

Inoue-san called for the next three days, wishing him good health and nothing more. People got sick all the time, Jun figured. Until he knew what to do about Sho, he couldn't bear to see him. Couldn't bear to lie to him. Would this ruin everything? He'd spent only hours with Sakurai Sho and had spent the majority of that time naked and begging for more. So why did he feel so compelled to keep the man's secret? Why did he feel this way about him so quickly, so deeply?

He lost focus at work, ruining an apple cake with a careless, foolish abuse of cinnamon to the point that even Aiba-kun scolded him. Nino took him aside, away from prying eyes, to give him a shake.

"You're up and down more than a teenager," Nino complained. "What is that place doing to you? I should never have sent you there if it's this fucking shady..."

"It's not shady," he protested. "I met someone..."

"Who has broken your heart already. Is it Watch Guy? Did he turn out to be a complete prick?" Nino scowled. "What's his name? I'll go set him on fire..."

Jun shut his eyes. "He didn't want me to find out who he was, and I still found out. He wanted everything to be a secret, and now I know and I feel like shit, alright?"

Nino stared at him. "Do you like him?"

He opened his eyes and stared back. "Obviously."

"And does he like you?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so? Jun-kun, were we looking at the same watch in that little gift box? He sent you that after what, one handjob from you?"

He sighed in disgust. "Nino..."

"Aside from today's fuck-up, you've been floating around here like there's birds chirping and choirs singing about your brand new love affair. And honestly, you've been far easier to deal with," Nino said, crossing his arms. "Your station is the one I'm least worried about and that includes Aiba-chan's mishap with the pumpkin filling. You're happy, I've never seen you so happy, and damn it, it's even warming up my black heart. So what does it matter if you've found him out? You obviously care enough not to tell anyone else about him, whoever he is, Mr. Watch. You're not posting his name and dick size on an online forum."

He looked down, shaking his head. "But it's the one thing he's asked of me so far. That he'd open up to me on his own terms. It's not exactly simple you know, finding someone you can trust, someone who's looking for something more. One breach of that trust can ruin everything."

"Well in life, Jun-kun, we don't always get to follow the easiest course, and you know that. Maybe you should just even the playing field. Tell him yeah, surprise, you know his name, his address, all his dirty laundry. And then don't apologize for it. Offer an equivalent exchange. Tell him the same about you. If it's a real connection and he genuinely likes you then he obviously won't care if you know his fucking name. Unless it's like, the Prime Minister maybe? Though I don't get gay vibes from him..."

Jun chuckled. Somehow Nino always managed to cut through the shit, to turn off the leaking faucet that was Jun's mental process most of the time. Maybe it was as easy as that. If Sho hadn't trusted him so far, he'd have never even hinted at his profession, given how easily Jun had been able to make the connection. The two of them were a damn good match, Jun realized. The two of them were too easily frightened, too stubborn. They simply had to be willing to trust each other.

Nino punched him in the arm. "Get back to work already. Maybe you should just bring him a fucking cake. Cake makes everything better."

\--

He responded positively to the next call from Inoue-san, hoping Sho got the message and wasn't too angry. Though Jun supposed if things had gone the other way around, Sho turning him down three days in a row, that he'd be petrified. Frightened that everything they'd built had been lost.

He did in fact follow Nino's sound advice, bringing one of his signature sweet potato cupcakes with extra icing to the Face Down Club that night. They were still in reliable 605, and Jun skipped the shower and skipped the blindfold, sitting in the chair and deciding that tonight was going to be the night they had their talk. He left the cupcake by the Lawson bag, specially wrapped and tied with ribbon.

Sho was early, and Jun couldn't help hoping it was because he was thrilled to have him back. The keycard swiped and the door opened, and Sho stood there in the doorway, eyes frightened at the sight of Jun staring back at him, right at his face.

Sho turned to leave, and Jun got to his feet. "Wait. Please wait. I can explain."

When Sho did enter the room, he looked an odd mixture of furious and mortified, staying back against the door like a frightened animal. "Were you even sick?" Sho asked. 

The red walls and low lighting cast shadows on his face, but it was definitely him. Sakurai Sho of Sakurai Success Academy, but minus the cheesy tie and mostly minus the I'm-on-TV smile. He was perfect in Jun's eyes, his dark hair brushed across his brow, his face round, his eyes large, his lips almost begging to be kissed. He wore a dark blazer with a v-neck underneath, dark trousers. He'd probably come from proctoring a practice exam at one of his family's schools.

"I saw your commercial," Jun admitted. "And I put two and two together." He moved aside, gesturing to the chair. "You can sit, okay? It's okay..."

Sho slid out of the blazer, taking none of his usual care. He let it drop to the floor and he nearly collapsed into the chair, holding his face in his hands. "When you didn't come," Sho said, sounding ashamed, "I figured it was because you found out. You didn't want the complication."

Jun crouched down, keeping his hands to himself. "Is that what happened before? Someone didn't want the complication of being with you?"

"Jun, I'm divorced," Sho said, looking up and meeting his eyes for the first time. "I have a four year old son, and he is everything to me."

This was new to him. He hadn't thought to actually look Sho up on the Internet. Just knowing who he was had changed everything. Jun took this information in carefully. It explained a lot about Sho's secrecy.

"My ex doesn't really care what I do or what I am, and she'd never talk because she doesn't want Shinya's life to be a joke. But if anyone else found out, told our stakeholders, told the parents what I am, the business is ruined. And honestly, I could live with that. I really could. But it would follow my son, and I won't allow it."

"Sho, I would never tell anyone..."

"I've had to buy off people," Sho continued, ignoring him. "My whole life, you know. My father did it for me first, in high school. Came on to someone, had read him totally wrong. It's amazing what an apology on your hands and knees and a few million yen can do." He looked disgusted with himself, and it broke Jun's heart. "So I guess I kept up the practice. I picked the wrong people. People who saw me as nothing more than an ATM. People who said they genuinely liked me one day and then the next they had their hand out. Wanting something in exchange for staying quiet. So when I found Face Down I thought it was going to bring me the privacy I wanted because of my son, my family..."

Jun reached out, took Sho's hand. Was surprised by how hard the other man squeezed back.

"Nobody had time to mess around here. Not when they're paying for it," he said. "'I won't wear a fucking blindfold every time,' they said, 'what kind of messed up game are you playing?' 'Do you know who I am?'" Sho laughed bitterly. "I just didn't want people to know. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. But then you show up and within days I'm already telling you everything you need to put the pieces together anyway. I'm setting myself up to fail my son. I do everything for him, and I still come here because I can't hold it together."

He understood why Sho wanted control in this room. Why he was so happy to have someone submit to him, someone to obey him. Because everything else in his life was out of his hands.

Jun let him go, moving to grab the box he'd brought. He returned, slowly untying the ribbon as Sho watched him carefully. He opened it, letting out the heavenly smell. "My name is Matsumoto Jun. I'm thirty years old, and you are officially the longest relationship I've been in even though all we seem to do is fuck and until tonight I hadn't even seen your face in person. I think that should tell you a lot about how things have been for me in the dating department. I work as a patissier at the Skytree View Hotel's restaurant in Sumida. I am the best patissier you will ever meet, and I'm damn good at my job. When you eat this cupcake, you will want dozens more, and I'll make them."

He shoved the box at Sho, who took it with shaking hands.

"I found out who you were before you could tell me. That's how it is. I'm not here to take your money or play you false, and if you want the watch back as a token of good will, I'll give it back. I was scared to come to the Face Down Club because my biggest fear is someone finding out about me. So when I tell you that I can understand your worry and fear I hope you believe me. I've been sitting home alone for the past few nights and I haven't been sick except that I was worried I'd betrayed you just because I'd seen your commercial. That you'd never want to see me again because you're Batman and I discovered your true identity. If you think you're the type to overthink something to death, then you'll really get an education in it simply by knowing me. I am paranoid and particular and probably annoying as fuck because of it, but I really do think the cupcake speaks for itself."

He looked up, seeing the strangest smile crossing Sho's face.

"What?" Jun asked in exasperation.

"I have no idea what patissier means," Sho said before setting the cupcake box down and grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him close.

When they kissed it was on an even playing field for the first time. There was no blindfold, no mystery. And for once they took it slow. Their eyes were both open, seeing everything as they stripped down. Jun got to see the person he'd only been able to imagine until now, to see the way he smiled when Jun leaned in to steal another kiss. He liked this person, the whole person, much more.

They were half clothed when they fell back against the chair, Sho pulling Jun on top of him. He sat still, seeing Sho bite his lip, obviously trying to be tough and not become emotional. He stroked his fingers over Jun's face, across his brow. Sho was seeing all of him for the first time too. How long had they both been searching? For someone to trust? Jun smiled. It felt so good to be found.

"It won't be easy, you know," Sho said. "We can't walk down the street and hold hands. Hell, we can't even go to an okama bar and do that."

"Don't care." He brushed his mouth against Sho's neck. "I'm not into public displays. Or okama bars."

"I live in a rather ritzy neighborhood. You can't come over, the neighbors would see..."

"Don't care," he said again, hearing Sho gasp when he nipped at the hollow of his throat. "You can visit me instead. I live in a busy complex, and I don't even know what my neighbors look like."

"Be cheaper than this place..."

"And I'll bake for you. Plus I have an actual bed," Jun added. "Not that this place hasn't promoted the benefits of chairs."

Sho slipped his hand between them, cocking his head. "Why don't we promote the benefits of chairs then? One last time?"

To think, all this had started with a red business card and wishful thinking. With a nearly empty room, a leather chair, and a plastic bag in the corner.

Jun nodded his agreement, sighing in contentment when Sho's hand closed firmly around his erection. "And this time I get to watch."


End file.
